


Canon Stan - Stanlon

by roobarrtrashmouth



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 14:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roobarrtrashmouth/pseuds/roobarrtrashmouth
Summary: Stanley Uris is leading a perfectly ordered life with his wife Patty until the night he gets a call from Mike Hanlon. A name attached to a person with lots of forgotten meaning.





	Canon Stan - Stanlon

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tumblr Prompts (non-reddie)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16616990) by [tinyarmedtrex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyarmedtrex/pseuds/tinyarmedtrex). 



> After reading @tinyarmedtrex fic, Ch. 17 Canon Mike - Stanlon I felt the need to write the same call but from Stan's POV.

Stan and Patty had just returned from a nice evening out. Dinner with drinks at a nice downtown restaurant. It wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it had been a while since they had enjoyed a night out like this, and they deserved it. After placing his keys in the try by the door, Patty and Stan had changed into more comfortable clothes. They were settling into the family room of their upper middle class home in a respectable gated community in the Atlanta suburbs. Patty was on the sofa checking Facebook for recent updates by her friends and Stan clearing business emails from the firm. The television was talking to itself. 

The years had been kind to Stan. The sandy blond curls of his youth, were now flecked through with grey, but it was still curly, if now controlled with product. He had barely noticeable crows feet starting to form by his eyes. Patty looked just as good as the first day he met her in his junior year of college, a brunette beauty with a quick smile.

Stan was just about to put his phone down when it vibrated, a call from an unknown number in Derry, Maine. His habit was to not answer unknown numbers, but something about the name of the town compelled him to answer on the second ring. “Hello, Uris Residence.” He answered knowing damn well that it was his cell and not the little used land line.

“Hi Stan, it’s Mike, Mike Hanlon.” The voice that spoke back to him sounded both totally unknown, but at the same time extremely familiar. A voice that made him subconsciously frown, then smile.

Then a face popped into his head. A tall muscular dark skinned boy with beautiful brown eyes, a wide loving smile, and arms that were perfectly made to pull you into a hug. He also remembered summer nights spent making love to this same boy, kisses shared by a large oak, holding hands while walking home at night after football games, swimming with him and others at a quarry. But mostly of the beautiful dark skinned boy. 

“Mike?” he found himself saying. Almost as if he wasn’t in control of his own voice.

“Hi Stan.” Mike responded. The voice desperately trying to hide some soft inflection and failing. 

“Why are you calling?” Stan asked, again without consciously thinking about. Then more memories these just snatches, quick glimpses. Almost as if he was walking down a hallway and glancing into a room only to have it slammed in his face. But catching enough of a glimpse to remember what he saw. The forgetting bothering him beyond all belief, he hated forgetting things he shouldn’t. He had solidifying images of Mike, a red head boy and girl, a boy also with curly hair but the largest glasses he had ever seen, a heavy set boy with a kind face, and a nervous looking boy with a fanny pack of all things. 

Mikes soft and loving voice continued, “You need to come back to Derry Stan. IT’s back.” 

Stan now remembers a clown that he instantly wished he could forget. He reaches up and gently touches a few of the scars that ring his face. Suddenly remembering a flute player from hell. A house that belongs in hell and more. Coming back. He didn’t want these memories. Memories of Mike maybe, of Richie his best friend, “How could I forget Trashmouth? Fuck.” he suddenly thinks. Eddie of the fanny pack and aspirator and Richie’s boyfriend, Bill with his fucking obsesion to kill IT. “FUCK IT!” He thought angrily. Now, Beverly with her flowing red locks and uncut key necklace, and Ben, he had played football with Ben. “OH GOD ITs back.” He murmurs to himself, causing Patty to look up from her phone. Now more memories, memories of Mike… Mike who had always been there to keep him sane. To help chase away the memories of Pennywise. Mike who he had conveyed information about the Losers goings on until they were finally all in high school together. Mike the one who gave him the strength and support he needed to make it through after killing IT. 

“It can’t be back. We won. We killed IT.” Stan was telling Mike but the fear was creeping into his voice causing it to quake. 

Mike continued, “We were wrong, ITs back. We promised Stan, we all promised.” 

Suddenly Stan felt pain in his hands and as he looked at his left hand a scar began to appear as he looked at it. He looked up at Patty, his wife and suddenly he felt guilty. How could he love Patty and Mike? He wasn’t an adulterer, yet, but he knew that if he saw Mike, he knew it would happen. He wouldn’t be able to help it. Patty just asked who he was talking to and he waved her off and got up to go their room. He was never dismissive of Patty, until just this moment.

He found himself telling Mike that he couldn’t come. Mike using his promise to get him to come back. Him insisting that he wasn’t strong like Mike or the others. Mike insisting that they needed him. He was vital. That once he was back in Derry he would remember more. But what Mike didn’t and couldn’t know was that remembered quite a bit already. More than he wanted to know. Mike had blown open a hole in his carefully crafted memory wall. 

The pull of seeing Mike was strong, but the thought of having his reality violated again by Pennywise was also strong. He wasn’t totally afraid, but he was alone. His source of strength, Mike, wasn’t here he was there with IT. Suddenly he realized that the strength he needed was too far away. “Mike, please come here to Georgia.” Stan found himself pleading “We always talked about visiting California, sitting on the beach.” He offered. Yet another memory that had burst forth to torment him, with what could have been, and now may never be. This suggestion also being shot down by Mike. Mike insisting that the others were coming, he had to be strong and come as well. 

“I’m not strong like you Mike. I can’t do this.” Stan found himself using a voice that he didn’t know was in him. One that he had heard once years before standing outside 29 Neibolt St. with this same Mike telling him he couldn’t go in. Crying and being comforted by Mike, Mike giving Stan strength to go on with the deed of killing IT. 

“You’re stronger than you than you know Stan. You can do this.” Mike said. Almost making Stan think that he could do it. Almost. 

Stan was crying by this point and found himself saying “I - okay. I’ll come, for you” He admitted. Mike told him to meet them all at some Chinese restaurant, he even memorized the address. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Stan said once more and lied to Mike for the first and last time. 

Mike responded, “Tomorrow.” They hung up. 

Stan sat on his bed tears freely flowing down his face. The multitude of memories that came flooding back were overwhelming. But Mike wouldn’t come down to get him. He knew he couldn’t face IT again. He wasn’t that strong, not without Mike at his side and Mike couldn’t or wouldn’t come and get him. On top of it all he couldn’t face Patty. He feels he has betrayed her. She deserves better than him. His life entire life with her was a lie. A wonderful dream he had only to wake up to an even worse nightmare. He loved Mike, with all his heart. He knew it. If he left Patty here in Atlanta to go to Derry, one way or another he wasn’t coming back. He would either stay with Mike or die. 

Who was he kidding he knew he wouldn’t go. He needed Mike. Mike who had held him at night when he woke up with nightmares. Who reassured him that he was stronger than he thought. Mike and the Losers were his strength, and none of them were here with him. Then there was Mike. Oh god he wanted to see him so bad. But how, just how, could he tell Mike that he had forgotten everything about him, the love, the times they had spent together. How. He couldn’t. He wasn’t strong on his own. Not anymore. 

With a final sigh he stands and walks to the bathroom.


End file.
